


Feeling Good's A Simple Combination

by orphan_account



Series: Fluent in Stroll [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Threesome, sex with feelings, smut~, threeway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 12:48:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re just trying to figure out how to put themselves together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feeling Good's A Simple Combination

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pirateof221b](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=pirateof221b).



> And here's the last bit in this verse! (For now? Who knows!)
> 
> Thanks to everyone who comments, leaves kudos, or simply takes a look!

Stiles looks at his boyfriends. Because that's how it is. They go on dates together, sometimes just two of them, sometimes all three, it varies between one of their houses and some place around town. (Or when Jackson wants to spoil them, somewhere very nice and very fancy out of town.) This particular date is the three of them, at Stiles' empty-for-the-night house, watching movies and eating take out and stealing quick kisses.

Quick and chaste kisses

Quick, chaste, completely unsatisfying kisses.

But as Stiles looks at Danny and Jackson sitting on opposite ends of the couch, he thinks he sees the problem.

“We don't know where to start.” He announces, sitting between them on the couch. At this point—a month and a half into dating Jackson as well as being fourteen months into dating Danny—Stiles has only ever really done anything with Danny. Jackson bit him once, gave him a wicked hickey that had all eyes on him for a week. “I mean, sure, we've all kind of fooled around on really distant and separate occasions, but none of that really counts.”

Danny nods and Jackson blinks which they've come to take as a sign of agreement.

“So. We should fix that.” Stiles looks pointedly at Jackson.

“You guys were boyfriends first.” He accuses, arms crossed over his chest. “I'm the newbie, shouldn't you be the ones to, to teach me?” His face is the brightest pink Stiles has ever seen it, and it's _awesome_.

Danny looks hesitant, but scoots closer to Stiles.

“Oh, Jackson, you want a live demonstration?” Stiles grins cheekily, and Danny rolls his eyes and mumbles something about laying off the really awful porn, but it's lost in their mess of tongues. Danny's hand comes up and rubs Stiles' jaw, subtly tugging him closer and licking deep into his mouth. It turns Stiles' spine to jelly, and other-boyfriend or not, Jackson becomes a far off dream.

The only reason he even ends up remember Jackson is when Danny pushes him back and he lands right in Jackson's lap. Jackson, who's as pink as a candy apple. Jackson, who's definitely hard and aching in his pants. Jackson, who's standing up and screeching and gasping, flailing in a way he's definitely picked up from Stiles.

The bathroom door down the hall slams shut with a resounding click. Stiles sits up to look at it over the edge of the couch, and Danny stares in concern as well.

“I think we spooked him.”

Danny groans and drops his forehead to Stiles' chest. “I'll get _The Notebook_ and you can grab the emergency cookies.”

)

“So.” Stiles' dad looks between his son and Jackson. “I'm not going to pretend to understand any of this. I'm going to go to work, and if Jackson is in your bed when I get back then I'm not going to say anything, but I expect him to make breakfast.” And with that on the table, John Stilinski stands and kissing his son's forehead, and leaves for work.

Stiles and Jackson scramble up to his room. Jackson crash lands on the bed and Stiles opens his laptop to play any music. Once the beats of some band fill the room, Stiles situates himself straddling Jackson's hips. “You aren't gonna freak out, right?”

“I never freak out.”

Stiles pulls back from the almost-kiss. “No, you don't get to do that. You don't get to be the big manly man in front of _me_ , one of your boyfriends.” Stiles glares down at Jackson.

Who, if nothing else, looks guilty. “I won't freak out?”

Stiles nods, and they kiss once, twice, slowly and languidly, hands keeping above the waist. “Will you stay cool even if I say I wanna touch you? I wanna take off your shirt?” Jackson shakes his head, and they each peel off their shirts. Stiles greedily presses his fingertips into the unfair chiseling of Jackson's hips. “It's unreal how hot you are.” Stiles says reverently. “Your hips _so_ do not lie.”

Jackson throws his head back in a laugh. “You're a freak.”

Stiles grins and flattens himself against the length of Jackson's body. “Would you freak out if I told you wanted to suck you off?” He says again after an eternity of kissing. Jackson tenses, but doesn't retreat. “Would you like that? Me on my knees for you? Shutting me up for once?” Stiles bites his lip, unsure because while his incessant 'dirty talk' works really well on Danny, Jackson is a whole 'nother ball game.

Jackson fucking _whimpers_ and grinds up against Stiles, and stills with his mouth wide open. His hips stutter and roll a few times, and Stiles realizes belatedly that he just made Jackson Motherfucking Whittemore come in his pants.

Stiles grins and sits up. He presses the heel of his hand down, imagining exactly what he told Jackson—being on his knees, desperately mouthing at Jackson's cock, while Danny _watches—_ and comes equally fast.

They collapse in fits of laughter and lazy kisses.

)

Danny looks over at Jackson. They're sprawled comfortably on Jackson's massive bed, hands tangled together and feet nudging up against one another. “So do I get my turn with you now that we're both old enough to actually know what we're doing?”

Jackson shifts at the mention of that one time after the whole Randy incident that ended in an awkward first kiss on both their parts. “You make it sound like I'm a ride?”

Danny rolls onto his side and slings an arm over Jackson's chest. “No, of course not, you know that.” He kisses the corner of Jackson's mouth. “You're a lot more than that, Jackson.” He reassures, heaving himself to his hands and knees above Jackson.

“Yeah?”

“You're perfect, remember?” Danny murmurs, bending his head and kissing Jackson briefly.

Jackson grins, which Danny decides he really doesn't do enough, and loops his arms around Danny's neck. Danny lowers himself, sliding a thigh against Jackson's steadily swelling cock, and groaning at the heat against his denim-covered-skin. Danny moans into Jackson's mouth desperately, mussing up Jackson's stupidly perfect hair with anxious hands.

Jackson sighs through the kiss, rolling his hips lazily against the steady pressure of Danny's thigh. He closes his eyes and winces with each shock of pleasure that runs through him.

“Danny, Danny, Danny,” and if that isn't the best thing Danny's ever heard in his life. Jackson tosses his head, new to the pleasure, the different kind of pleasure that sparks along his spine, something that Lydia or any of the other girls could never give to him. Danny's hands run down Jackson's overly dressed body, and slides the tips of his fingers inside the waist of Jackson's jeans.

“Can I?” Danny asks, leaning back.

Jackson nods, another whimper falling from his mouth.

Danny's hips jerk of their own accord, and he takes a moment to pop the button of their jeans, freeing their cocks through the slit in their boxers. Jackson makes a weak noise, and his whole body erupts in spasms as Danny slots their cocks together and starts to thrust his hips. Jackson simply moves with the motions, nails biting into Danny's shoulders, heels digging into the small of Danny's back.

They're almost _molding_ together with how hard they rut against each other. Danny gasps into Jackson's mouth and wails when Jackson forces his delightfully human teeth into the juncture of neck and shoulder with tender licks and strong sucks. Danny's thrusting turns erratic, and when one of Jackson's hands slides down Danny's back to his hole, everything comes to a blissful, mindblowing, fireworks-behind-his-eyelids, point.

Danny pants, trying to catch his breath as he feels Jackson writhing up against him like a cat in heat until more come spills onto their shirts. “Not freaking out?”

Jackson looks like the definition of debauched. “Not freaking out.”

)

“Mm, I missed this.” Stiles says into Danny's mouth. Danny grins and leans in to kiss him again. They're backed up against Danny's bedroom door, with Stiles' hands fisted in Danny's shirts. “Missed you.” He says, arching his back.

“Yeah?” Danny asks as he reaches for the door knob to let them into his bedroom. They stumble backwards until Stiles falls onto the bed, mussing the sheets as he goes. “Missed you too,” he says quietly. Stiles grins and pushes his hips forward. Danny's hands fall to Stiles' button to tug the pants down.

Stiles exhales a shaky gasp as Danny rests the flat of his palm against Stiles' cock, through the his Green Lantern underwear. Danny smirks and bypasses the warmth of his cock to slide his fingertips over the curve of Stiles' ass. Stiles clenches, not because of nerves but anticipation. Danny smirks and pulls the boxerbriefs down just enough for Stiles' cock to bounce free and for Danny to slide an eager finger between his cheeks.

Stiles shudders and throws a hand towards the bedside table. He digs around, until the edge of a specific tube of lube scratches his hand, and he grins in triumph.

“Eager?” Danny asks with a laugh. Not that he blames Stiles, because thing have been crazy as of late, more so than usual. Scott has a new girlfriend, Peter is trying to encourage Derek to take a mate, and a three way relationship with someone who still isn't considered “pack” is a lot to handle.

Stiles passes along the lube and spreads his thighs. “Wish Jackson was here.” He says absent-mindedly. But he grins. “We really need to get on that whole having a three way thing.”

Danny lines their bodies up and presses two slick fingers against Stiles' hole. “I wanna watch you fuck him.” He whispers into Stiles' ear, tugging at the lobe with his teeth. “I would just sit beside the bed, watch you open him up and make him beg.”

“Danny—?” Stiles writhes, the words sending shocks down his spine.

“He'd want it, want you to fuck him hard. You could make him come over and over.”

“Danny, Danny, _now_ ,” Stiles grabs at Danny's hips and pulls him close, squeaking as he feels the cockhead brush over his ass. “C'mon, c'mon.”

“Yeah, okay.” Danny promises. He sits up a bit to grab his dick, pressing it into Stiles. Stiles tosses his head from side to side, Danny's words still ringing in his ears. They stick to the inside of his skull, even as Danny pounds into him, grips his hips hard enough to bruise, even as Stiles rakes welts down Danny's back.

Danny comes first with chokes up noises and stuttering hips. He falls forward and presses in deeper. He bites at Stiles' jaw. “Just imagine Jackson watching us, he'd make the best noises, he'd wanna join in but we wouldn't let him.”

Stiles barely gets a chance to grip his dick before he's spilling onto his chest. He inhales sharply, gasping for air and curling his legs around Danny's waist. He brushes kisses along Danny's jawline. “Mm, all of that. All of that, excellent ideas. Write those down.”

Danny laughs. “Sleep?”

Stiles nods and is asleep almost before Danny even pulls out.

)

“I—I don't know.” Jackson says softly. “I mean, it—it'd be our first time together and I don't know if..”

Stiles rubs Jackson's neck and kisses his temple. “I, _we_ think it'd be better if our first experience was all together. But, you know, it's okay. We get it.” Stiles looks at Jackson. “Danny and I got to be together first so, yeah, yeah I can understand that.”

Jackson looks guilty.

“Did you have something else in mind?” Stiles takes the seat beside Jackson at the dining table, and Danny leans in from across.

Jackson flushes pink. “I didn't I just..” He buries his face in his hands. “I don't know what I'm doing.” He says. “You're _right_ because I don't know.. I just don't know anything.”

Stiles nods, turning Jackson's face to pull him into a kiss. Danny reaches out and taps Stiles' shoulder. “Hey, what if..” Danny's voice falls silent but he gives Stiles a pointed look.

“Are you—are you suggesting what I think your suggesting?”

“Depends.”

“I think I'm supposed to say yes.”

Jackson groans. “I hate you guys.” But he's definitely grinning.

)

Everything comes to a head a week later when Stiles' dad leaves for a police retreat—courtesy of the station who feel the need to express their gratitude to the best sheriff ever—leaving the Stilinski house pleasantly parent-free. Stiles cooks dinner, Jackson covers dessert, and Danny builds the blanket fort in the living room. They gorge themselves on the food, and settle into the blanket fort with a metric _shit ton_ of movies, so many that they wouldn't even be able to watch them all before Stiles' dad gets back.

They're part way through the third movie— _21 Jump Street_ because fuck you science—when Danny leans in and whispers something in Stiles' ear. Jackson vaguely registers his boyfriends shifting, moving, speaking quietly to each other. But he's more distracted by his internal debate over whether or not he finds Channing Tatum attractive. (On one hand, that _jaw line_. On the other, those _ears_. On one hand, those _dance_ moves. On the other, those _ears_.)

Which is why he yelps and almost ruins the fort when Stiles' hand slides down the front of his pants without warning. He tries to bat at Stiles' hand, but Danny is suddenly sliding a hand down the _back_ of his pants, and wait what was he disagreeing with?

“So, remember a week ago when Danny and I brought up moving forward?”

Jackson nods slowly, swallowing his nerves and choking on them.

“We have an idea.” Stiles looks deadly serious, a look he doesn't wear often. “You're free to say no, suggest something else, leave, whatever. But, we really want to do this with you.” He speaks lowly, words interrupted by tender kisses laved across Jackson's jaw. “Okay?”

“O-okay.” Jackson answers only to look over at Danny with wide eyes. “What did you have in mind?”

Stiles grins and Jackson swears he's picking up that “attractive but seriously feral grinning technique” from Derek. “Just tell us to stop, alright?”

“I trust you.” Jackson tells them honestly, tugging them each in for a kiss. Danny grins against his lips and Stiles pulls back to tug off his shirt. He works on Jackson's neck, as Jackson is thoroughly distracted by Danny's lip trailing from his lips to the curve of his shoulder, biting into the soft skin. Jackson makes another noise of surprised when he's tugged into Stiles' lap, and when he feels Danny's bare chest plastered to his back.

Not that he minds, because all that talking has given Stiles a _talented_ tongue, and Danny's own lips and teeth are marking paths between the moles and freckles on Jackson's back. He arches when it tickles—like just above the small of his back—and moans when there's just enough skin for Danny to latch onto and _bite_. Stiles doesn't slack off in the front, either, lavishing attention to Jackson's nipples, the dips of his body where each muscle flows to the next.

By the time the kissing slows, Jackson is littered with hickeys, and Stiles' lips are bright red—Danny's, too, Jackson imagines.

“This is, this is really good.” He agrees, running his fingers through Stiles' hair. Stiles glows at the praise, his hand dipping lower to the button of Jackson's jeans.

“This okay?”

Jackson, at a loss for words, nods and pushes his hips forward while leaning back against Danny. He quakes in Danny's arms as he feels Stiles' hot breath dance over his clothed cock. He whimpers when Stiles mouths over the cloth, tongue pressing against Jackson's cock, but it isn't enough. He wants _more_.

Danny's voice is sharp and sweet in his ear. “What do you want, Jackson? Let us hear it.”

It's overwhelming, all the attention, greedy hands on his skin and an eager mouth on his dick. Jackson struggles for words and for air before he finally manages to breath out, “bedroom— _bedroom_.”

Stiles pulls back, and the noise of loss he makes matches Jackson's perfectly. But they all stand anyways, bumping the stop of the fort and tripping over their shaky legs. They can barely handle the stairs up to Stiles' room, taking turns in pressing each other to the walls, kissing each other, groping and rutting and making the floor creak.

Stiles fumbles with the window lock, making sure it's secure and tells his boyfriends when they look at him curiously, “Derek.”

Stiles' bed is small, compact, has hem all pressed together in all the right ways. It has Danny on his knees with Jackson sitting chest-to-back against him, and Stiles peeling off Jackson's underwear—a normal gray, much like Danny's average red, very much unlike Stiles' own totally awesome superman briefs—and tossing them to a forgotten corner of his room. He moves in between Jackson's spread thighs and stares down at his cock.

He licks his lips and relishes Jackson's groan. “What do you want, Jackson?”

“I thought you guys had a plan?” He asks, only partially irritated.

Stiles and Danny share a grin. “What do you want, Jackson?” They ask together.

Jackson slowly opens his eyes—when had they shut, is the real question—and looks between them. “I don't, I don't know. I just want _you_.” He says to them both. Stiles seems heady with the knowledge, like it's all he's ever wanted to hear.

“Trust us?” Danny asks.

Jackson watches Danny hand Stiles a tube of lubricant. “Always.” He answers, voice a little thick.

Stiles smiles and leans in close, kissing Jackson over and over as he slicks a finger up and pushes it inside Jackson slowly. “Love you,” he says against Jackson's lips, “we love you,” he tells him. Jackson moves with the light thrusts, tensing and moving harder when one finger becomes two, and two becomes three. “You're doing so good, so well, feel so good around my fingers.”

Jackson tries to lift his hips, but Stiles' free hand keeps him against the bed. Instead, Danny's hand falls to his dick and his words fall to Jackson's ear. “Are you ready, Jackson? Ready to get fucked?” He asks, eyes locked on his hand on Jackson's dick.

Jackson just nods, 'eeping' when Stiles removes his fingers. His hips jerk and search for the feeling, finding it in the larger, blunt feel of Stiles' cockhead sliding into him. He doesn't pull away though. He only grips Danny's other hand, and shudders with the moan that works its way up from his gut out into the air of the room.

Once Stiles is flush against him, holding his legs open by the knees, Jackson feels Danny rutting against his back slowly. He keens, he wants to reach back and jerk Danny off, but the position doesn't quite allow for it. Danny sits a little lower, guiding his cock to simply slide across the curve of Jackson's body where back sharpens into ass, smearing precome, dipping just low enough to tease along his stretched rim.

Jackson jerks, crying out some weird mess of Stiles' and Danny's names. Stiles laughs in his ear, and Jackson listens intently to them kiss, the smack of their lips and the distinct sounds of their sliding messy tongue. He moans when he realizes he can hears things they can't—their heartbeats all falling in sync, the slide and give of Jackson's walls as Stiles thrusts harder and faster, the slick and dirty sounds of the kissing. His head falls back onto Danny's shoulder, and he opens an eye to watch Stiles and Danny kiss.

Stiles' hands grip tight on Jackson's hips, pulling him closer to meet each thrust. Stiles groans, and Jackson briefly entertains the thought that, sure, he always figured he and Danny would end up in the sac together, but never Stiles, never had the idea crossed his mind. But, he thinks, he doesn't think he could live without it: without the firm pressure sliding in and out of him, Stiles' pitched grunts and groans, almost animalistic sounds as he drives into Jackson's body, grinning at him.

Danny kisses his neck, still stroking his aching cock, still thrusting his own hips against Jackson's back.

Stiles' hands drift from Jackson's thighs to his hips, to pressing against his ribs for better leverage as his own hips pick up speed. His moans are a constant stream of swear words and _Jackson, Jackson, fuck fuck fuck, Jackson,_ with a breathless and desperate _Danny_ thrown in for excellent measure now and then.

Jackson reaches out, and pulls Stiles face to his, mouthing against his ear. “Come on Stiles, come, come for me,” and it's _such_ a cliché line, but Stiles moans like a porn star, so it evens out. His hips jerk, and he scrambles to get closer, to press as deep inside Jackson as he possibly can as he _does_ come, in aborted little swivels of his hips.

Stiles groans into Jackson's mouth, hips staying still and pressed in deep.

Danny is what finally brings them out of the beginning of an after glow. He grunts, cock still hard—as is Jackson's—and he looks ready to go mad. Stiles grins lazily, and slowly pulls out of Jackson, shushing his wince with a kiss. “C'mon, up on your knees,” Stiles tells him as he lays on his stomach, arching his shoulders in a way that looks painful. Stiles slaps Jackson's thigh and encourages him again.

Jackson scrambles to obey—and wow, if _that_ becomes a thing—he moves to shaky knees, watching with a high pitched moan as Stiles swallows him halfway down, his hand curling around the rest. Jackson is mesmerized, jolted out of the hypnotic rhythm only as Danny spreads his cheeks and ruts between them.

Jackson leans back, pressing his dick against Stiles' mouth, and whispers to Danny. “R'you gonna fuck me?” He asks, prompting an especially enthusiastic hump from Danny.

“Not tonight.”

“Soon?” Jackson asks, because the mental image alone has his cock jumping in Stiles' mouth.

Danny smirks against his skin, “soon,” he agrees as he picks up speed, his cock brushing over Jackson's open hole teasingly, maddeningly.

Stiles grins around his cock, and swallows and it's all over for Jackson. He swears he blacks out, especially when the slick head of Danny's dick catches on his stretched rim, he can feel himself blinking rapidly. His chest heaves, he gasps for air as the most intense orgasm he experiences wracks his body.

When he regains feeling in his limbs and actually has enough energy to open his eyes again, he feels come drying on his back and ass, as well as inside him. He makes a face, and hears Stiles laugh.

“You'll get used to is.” He tells him, almost reverently, stroking Jackson's face and peppering kisses against Danny's. “Good?” He asks after a short silence.

Jackson grins, feeling far too much like the teenage boy he's never really let himself be. “Really good.” He tells them.

Danny and Stiles make identical sounds of success, and there's a slap of a high-five. They're tangled in the sheets of Stiles' bed, bodies damp and warm and sticky. Jackson almost hates it enough to make a break for the shower, but Danny's breath is rhythmic and smooth against his back, and Stiles' breathing tickles his shoulder. Jackson sighs, shifts just a bit to get comfortable, and they all doze off together.


End file.
